


with you!

by adaosix



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Car Accidents, Character Death, Disfigurement, Heavy Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 19:14:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15226011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adaosix/pseuds/adaosix
Summary: Mark can hear the windshield wiper going left, right, left, right, left and so on, but he’s noticed a slight delay every time it swipes left. Or right. It’s too dark to tell.





	with you!

**Author's Note:**

> chapter 3 of sticker happy will be up by uhhhh hmm
> 
> i want to thank those who left supportive comments on premiere. thank u. and im sorry  
>    
> trigger warning. there will be mentions of a car accident, blood, death, and disfigurement  
> kind of graphic too. pls re-read the tags
> 
> i just wanted to wind up. very vague and straightforward

 

It’s dark.

 

It’s raining and Mark shouldn’t feel the droplets on his skin but he does and he doesn’t know why.

 

He can’t move, too. There’s something keeping him from doing so, especially his arms, something hard and heavy.

 

His _head_ feels heavy. He can feel it so forcefully angled that it almost touches his left shoulder. He can’t even move it properly, it hurts his neck. He can move his legs however, not much with how they’re confined by what feels like cold plastic; but better than nothing at all.

 

Something also smells awfully weird.

 

He can’t see much. He can hear though.

 

He can hear the windshield wiper going left, right, left, right, left and so on, but he’s noticed a slight delay every time it swipes left. Or right. It’s too dark to tell.

 

He can hear a constant beep too, the one that warns him whenever one of the car doors is open, and he doesn’t like how it fits so well with the squelch of the wiper and the pitter patter of rain. It’s weird. Makes him remember the amalgamation of his guitar and Donghyuck’s voice.

 

He remembers Donghyuck.

 

Donghyuck, on the passenger seat, singing along to the radio only hours ago. Minutes ago? He's lost track of time.

 

Mark wants to call out his name, but it won’t come out like he wants it to.

 

Words won’t come out of his mouth like they’re _supposed_ to. Every time he tries, it’s just failed attempts of “ _hy_ —“ and “ _hyu_ — “ and when the entirety of the situation finally hits him, he’s already made a good few words out like “ _wake up_ ” and “ _please_.”

 

Mark _remembers_ and suddenly everything makes so much sense. His head. His ragged breathing. The beeping. The slight delay of the windshield wipers.

 

The roof of the car is probably totaled, that’s why the raindrops are hitting him.

 

The smell, too. It’s a mix of blood and rubber and gas and something else.

 

Everything makes so much sense and it’s all too much for Mark’s semi-conscious self to take in. His breathing becomes more irregular, and he’s sure it’s definitely not safe to force his body to move, but Donghyuck is afraid of the dark and all Mark wants more than anything is to embrace him.

 

He’s scared too. He yearns for Donghyuck’s warmth too.

 

But it’s still so hard to move. His neck is hurting more than ever, and it travels down to his spine.

 

And so he stops moving, stops the itch, after countless attempts of freeing his arms and shifting his head just a bit. Everything hurts and it’s just so dark, and Donghyuck is probably trembling in fear right now.

 

But it hurts.

 

 

 

 

 

Mark wakes up to the blinding glare of the sun. His head is still in a weird angle; nothing’s changed.

 

Except that the wipers and the beeping have stopped.

 

He can see now.

 

And his mind propels to Donghyuck right away. He painfully forces his eyes to pan right until there are blobs of black on his vision, but all he can see are broken scraps of metal and glass jutting out in all directions and it’s all so unusually close to where the passenger seat should be.

 

Mark panics, looks anywhere but down, all too focused on Donghyuck, until he’s caught sight of brown hair reflected on the rear view mirror which was dangling in a way that gave him a proper view to his right—to _Donghyuck_ , and he should be happy but the sight only makes his stomach churn.

 

He looks down. There’s blood on his shirt.

 

He looks back to the mirror.

 

He can’t pick out Donghyuck’s face.

 

“Hyuck—“ Mark manages out, voice hoarse, trembling. His head hurts.

 

Donghyuck is pressed between the passenger seat and the scrunched up plastic and metal that once was the dashboard.

 

He loosely recalls reminding Donghyuck about how dangerous it is to place his legs there.

 

He recalls Donghyuck muttering something along the lines of his legs feeling tired, and that they badly need to be elevated.

 

He recalls sighing in defeat, driving away, Donghyuck’s legs still resting on the dashboard.

 

They're all over the place.

 

Mark’s tears fall down all too fast, and it _sucks_ , because he can’t move his arms to wipe them away.

 

And when he looks down once more he realizes why he can’t move them. They’re stuck and they’re probably broken but they don’t hurt, and the airbag is deployed and it’s disrupting his view, and he can’t escape the glare of the sun, and he’s irritated and confused and mad and everything is just too much to take in.

 

The smell is too much to take in.

 

The pain is too much to take in.

 

His neck still hurts in its painfully angled position and all he wants to do is snap it right back but it hurts. It hurts. Everything hurts.

 

Mark garners up the courage to look back up once more, and he doesn’t know if he should thank the rearview mirror being there, broken, angled, and dangling, but it’s all the help he’s got.

 

He sees Donghyuck’s reflection once more and Mark still doesn’t know where his head is facing.

 

It’s all blurry and bloody and everything is weird. It’s weird and Mark refuses to believe the man almost crumpled to a pulp on the passenger seat is Donghyuck.

 

But it’s _him_. It’s the same sun-kissed skin. The same scattered moles. The same crooked fingers. Undoubtedly, everything screams Donghyuck and Mark wants to scream back _no_ , because Donghyuck doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to be looked at only for Mark to want to puke.

 

Mark doesn’t look away this time.

 

He wants to see Donghyuck’s face, wants to search for it, but it’s hard and his tears have come down once more. They won’t stop flowing and his chest hurts every time he sobs.

 

“Hyuck,” he groans, desperate, lips trembling, eyes still on his weary figure. “Donghyuck, answer me,” he manages to cry out in the same hoarse voice, wants to hear Donghyuck call out his name, too, in that beautiful voice he’s always loved.

 

But Donghyuck doesn’t respond. God knows Mark is trying so, _so_ hard to stay calm but the exasperation bubbling up from within him fazes him like it should, as it should.

 

He stomps both his legs within their confines out of seemingly unbounded frustration because he’s stuck and it’s all that he is able to move without wincing.

 

Mark stomps them once more, through gritted teeth and with much more force, knees hitting the bottom of the dashboard, and it only makes the rearview mirror sway, as it’s already dangling hopelessly in the first place, and then it falls to the tiny space between the gear shift and the radio.

 

Mark stops everything altogether, breathless and pained and even more frustrated. He’s just lost his only means of seeing Donghyuck.

 

He lets out a heavy breath, one of defeat and realisation, and he shift his eyes down, only to find the mirror staring right back him. He can see flies buzzing around.

 

He looks out the shattered windshield.

 

The sun hurts his eyes.

 

They should be home by now.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/hyucksix) ♧


End file.
